


In Absentia

by its_pronounced_wiener_slave



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: IgNoct, M/M, Older IgNoct, Sex, Stress Relief, alt ending, happy ending stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 06:00:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13968876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_pronounced_wiener_slave/pseuds/its_pronounced_wiener_slave
Summary: Per the giftee's request, please enjoy Ignis using Noctis after a rough day on the job!





	In Absentia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Honeyglow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honeyglow/gifts).



It may be evening, but heat still plagues their quarters insistently, the sweltering humidity brought on by recent rains leaving not a single home safe from the odious damp—even the Crown City jewel, herself.

Expensive shoes abandoned by the door, suit jackets cast over fine lacquered chairs.

From the dining hall to the great room the air is still and dim, backlit by a tentative moon and accented by the steady, beating rain against a wall of windows. Reflected there in the murky blue glass they share the couch, soundless mouths agape and hands ever searching. It’s the adviser with his shirt unbuttoned and pulled down over broad shoulders, caught in the crook of his elbows as he perches atop the king. The rain runs in rivulets down, down over the surface, making a mockery of the sweat that rolls over his bared throat in similar fashion, gaining speed until it catches on the curve of his chest.

It’s only quiet there, in the window.

On the seat and in between them the air is even thicker; sultry and terrestrial as a sauna, their half removed clothing doing little to entrap the heat rising from their skin. Noctis holds Ignis by the hips with limp wrists, noncommittal beneath the powerful snap from such absurdly long and elegant legs. Collapsed against the cushions of what was once his father’s couch, he gazes up like something wounded at the exhausted creature in his lap that hardly spoke a word when he blustered in from the storm on studded dress shoes, a merciful end to a tragically long work day.

It took Ignis only seconds to make his intentions known, and only seconds more before he was pinning the compliant king down to pry his cock from his pants and take it dry. There wasn’t even a word of discouragement or complaint as Noctis watched himself disappear inside his adviser, agonizing inch by agonizing inch, hands practically burning with the desire to touch and push and guide. Between the safe pace and the inherent discomfort in shirking well practiced measures, they’re both panting and trembling, drenched in sweat as if the reflection of their writhing figures stuck in the pouring rain is the true pair of them.

Ignis isn’t like this often.

Noctis regards it as a gift when he _does_ come home with this particular chip on his shoulder though, despite that it didn’t exactly augur well. A loss of control in a staff meeting, a workload spiraling out of hand; these things will always seat Ignis in his lap like this. _Just_ like this. Impatient and vexed beyond either of their ability to understand. He uses Noctis to his benefit, green eyes pinched shut as he moves with a now calculated speed and rhythm, waiting for the adjustment of his insides before he reaches the point at which it all shifts. It doesn’t always take the same amount of time; one day coming very quickly and the next drawing out long and arduous, fraying all of the king’s resolve second by second.

“You haven’t done _that_ in a while,” Ignis accuses with a hiss, folding forward joint by joint like some kind of near idle victim of time lapse photography.

Noctis isn’t doing anything in particular; at least that’s what he thinks until the bridge of his nose is buried uncomfortably in the graceful crook of a neck at which he was absentmindedly laving in ardent worship. Sucking as a form of succor.

 _“I do it all the time,”_ he defends himself to an unassuming clavicle, licking the salt from the entire span of its reach, half forgetting that it’s attached to other pieces that make up a person. _His person._ He can only take Ignis in bits and fragments at times like this, in manageable, bite size morsels, for the sum of the parts is far less devastating than the blunt force trauma that epitomizes the exhilarating whole.

 _“No,”_ the whole person snaps, and Noctis is well aware that he’ll be losing every argument until morning solely based on the way the body wrapped around his cock tightens until he gasps on his ill-fated response. “It’s been _three times since_ …”

An invisible wave must course through the room in that moment, for it pitches Ignis up and then back down in a manner almost lyrical. He sighs with it, his teeth bared and gleaming white when Noctis catches the point of one on the tip of his tongue, a wicked sort of snowflake. Akin to the tide the wave rolls in again, reliable, all in the pelvis as the rain still beats against the windows like it wants nothing more than to come inside.

Ignis threads long fingers through the king’s dark, fragrant hair, spreading them across his skull like roots from some ravenous sapling searching the dirt for sustenance. But Noctis smells of lustrous oils and handmade soaps, fresh mint and opulent aftershave, all present enough to be pleasant but not heavy, not distracting.

 _“Won’t happen again,”_ is promised against the adviser’s florid skin on an enticing whisper, followed by bated breath lingering low in the throat when Noctis hazards an upward tick of the hip, finding yet more warmth, more pressure, more vows of deliverance. Ignis objects with the terse jerk of both fists, prying his symbiont from where he’s latched just above the collarbone until the back of his fists press into the couch, casting Noctis’ gaze directly upward.

“Not today, Noct,” Ignis courteously warns, his eyes hooded even once he sets a blistering pace with torturously skilled abs, hips, and thighs. The king yields, caught from head to head in the grip of a pleasure monster that he loves dearly, shuddering each time the weight of a grown man collides unceremoniously with his lap.

_“Ignis…”_

“Sshh…”

_“Ah, Ig…nis…”_

_“Please,_ shut _up,”_ Ignis pleads uncharacteristically, his eyes closed tight every time he lurches up into Noctis’ line of sight, a flurry of hair clinging to a sweaty brow and lips half bitten red. A sudden gust of wind batters the drops of rain against the windows like thousands of tiny bullets, rattling nerves, an entreaty to be included amongst the sounds that steal breath and flush cheeks. The slap and swipe of skin against skin borders on comically vulgar, but nothing is comical about the way Ignis appears when he finally lets go of Noct’s hair so that they can bask in a good look at one another.

The couch molds around neck and shoulders, pillowing the king just as surely as it claims him; just as surely as he’s claimed, duly and unequivocally, by each arresting wring of his cock. Clung to, he heaves and keens, disappearing further and further into the upholstery as Ignis dashes him against it with open palms, his search for gratification becoming more frenzied and desperate. He pins his prey twice, the intensity of his stricken stare a snare all its own, its ability to petrify not unlike the gaze of a prowling coeurl with senses piqued. Noctis is the fool standing in its treacherous path, disarmed, idle and willing and promptly devoured.

He opens his mouth to utter that name again but expels steam instead, his breath hot and wet as it commingles with the similarly torrid air encompassing them. Obeying his lover’s last commandment he inscribes his warning into flesh, digging persistent fingers into tenacious thighs until his nails leave ten little half-moons of ‘ _I told you so’_ in their wake. Ignis quickens before reneging, an all too meager reaction to the way orgasm pinches Noctis’ face and wrinkles the skin around his eyes.

 _“Wait,”_ Ignis snipes the word between the stuttered breaths of his own impending release, but the decree comes a moment too late.

Noctis has already begun to spill inside by the time the order climbs into his ears, and if it weren’t for his fluttering lashes he may have noticed the look of exasperation crossed with determination on Ignis’ face. The man never fails to make a sieve of him, rending him of every drop, the fruits of his climax only aiding Ignis as he bears down with greater effort. He’s so close to his relief, watching as Noctis wilts against the cushions with fatigue, starting from the very top of his head and working its way perilously southward. The fingers around his hips slacken but still Ignis _pushes,_ yowls through gritted teeth as he cleaves himself open on the king, in tireless search of the end to his day.

“Don’t, Noct, _don’t leave me,”_ he pleads to the back of Noct’s eyelids, his fiery resolve showing the signs of breakage until suddenly the hands at his waist cling and pull down toward hips thrust mercilessly up.

Only then does Ignis finally arrive for the night in a burst of milky white, spine arched attractively as he throws his head back and clutches Noctis’ shirt—the sole thing counterbalancing his weight and keeping him from dropping abruptly to the floor. They remain suspended there for a while, two men and the pelting rain, frozen in place until heart rates start to slow. Wind punches the Citadel windows one final time with a riotous fury before the rain, too, decides that enough is quite enough.

Noctis grips both of Ignis’ wrists, wrenching the claws from his dress shirt and taking advantage of them, tugging until their chests are close enough that the shift in position slips his soft cock from the warmth of a human body. Nothing in the room has changed an iota from the moment they hit the couch as one, and yet the world now seems tilted just enough on its axis to be bearable.

“I’d never do such a thing,” Noctis smiles, stealing a kiss that sounds even sweeter than it tastes.

Ignis quirks a brow, still wandering back from his lust-haze and eyes practically dreamy with it. Planning to voice his confusion, he’s distracted when fingertips roam the curve of his bottom lip, playing at the scar that finds its home there.

“Leave you, I mean,” Noctis answers without being asked just as Ignis’ forehead thumps against his own, pillowed lightly by sweat slick hair. Their hands intertwine between them, fumbling almost innocently in stark contrast to the very nature of the situation.

“Sorry to have been so… _impersonal_ ,” Ignis whispers that last word as if embarrassed to say it, even after honoring it with an extra second of thought. Noctis snorts, his resulting smile reaching all the way up into his captivating eyes.

“It’s _more_ than alright,” he reassures, thumbs kneading the sentiment into the knuckles of long, slender fingers. Flicking his lashes upward, he searches Ignis’ eyes, growing earnest for his sake. The next few words escape just beneath his breath. _“Take what you need.”_

The grin belongs to Ignis now, his body light and nimble thanks to freedom from needless burden. A quick snap of his shoulders and a tug to the collar throws his shirt up over his back, the hanging tails framing the mess he made across his abdomen rather perfectly.

“You know I don’t believe in half measures,” he quips, his feet finding purchase on the floor one after the other.

Noctis merely sighs, contented, with absolutely no lingering intent to protest or even idly chat. The sound of his own voice would punctuate a moment that should be left to flow in its natural course, like water down a skyscraper window. His desire is to watch and listen; to both humming Ignis and falling rain, the pair of them quieter now, somehow subdued together as the day beats a hasty retreat.

After showers and dinner, and _long_ after their bed swallows them whole and deposits them into the relative safety of dreams, the sky finally clears to reveal a sanguine moon.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [thatssumgoodshit](https://thatssumgoodshit.tumblr.com/) for such a fun and flexible prompt and to the mod for running the event! It was my pleasure to contribute <3


End file.
